Page 7 of Sneaking Around with the Player
Stella: Any more streaming suggestions? I have another meet next weekend.
I’ve started to reply to her text a dozen times. It’s an innocent question, but I can’t bring myself to answer.
“Still torturing yourself?” Aaron asks as he takes a seat in front of his locker, the one next to mine. We finished practice twenty minutes ago, but I’ve only made it as far as taking off my jersey and pads.
Stella Walters has consumed my thoughts for two days now. We spent less than an hour together, I know hardly anything about her, and yet, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed spending time with someone that much.
I lock the screen and tuck my phone into my backpack, then drop down onto the bench in front of me. “Nah. Just checking email.”
“Bullshit.” He pulls on a clean T-shirt and then runs his hands over the wet strands of his hair. “Text her back. Who cares that she’s Felix Walter’s little sister?”
I cut him with a look meant to silence him, but Aaron laughs.
“Seriously. We don’t play Valley U again this year. Who cares?”
If Walters is anything like I think he is, he’ll care. A hell of a lot.
We’ve been playing against each other for years. I’m from Arizona, same as him. We played against each other the first time in middle school and met countless times in high school, but our real rivalry started senior year. We went head-to-head for the high school championship (he won), then we both went to Pac-12 colleges, and last year, when we played Valley he won again.
I finally got a victory against the talented quarterback this year, but it wasn’t easy. It came on the back of a controversial call. I tackled one of their wide receivers as he was going out of bounds. Garrison Hamilton is known for slipping by the defense, finding holes, and cutting to the middle, just when it looks like he’s going down.
Hamilton is good, but also a giant asshole. I’ve never met someone that talks more trash on the field than him. He knows how to get under your skin. I studied tape of him for weeks leading up to the game and I was ready. I wasn’t letting him get in my head, and I wasn’t letting him past me for a touchdown. Valley wanted a penalty for a late hit, but ultimately, it was ruled in our favor.
All of that would have been enough to piss off Walters and his team, but that’s nothing new for college football. We have rivalries between schools for all sorts of reasons. It helps keep our edge, makes us dig a little harder for every game. But Garrison was injured on the play, which sent Valley into an uproar. If it hadn’t been the final seconds of the game, I’m convinced there would have been a brawl on the field.
Listen, it happens. I never want to injure someone out there, but that’s basically impossible. Two dudes flying at each otherwith the force of a Mack truck, someone is bound to get hurt. This time it was on their side, and they’ll be out for blood the next time we meet.
So, no, I don’t think Walters is going to be cool with me texting his sister.
I hoped it was coincidence. Walters is a common last name, right? She wasn’t hard to find on social media and it confirmed what I knew in my gut the second she told me her name. Stella is my long-time football rival’s little sister.
“Okay. I can see by that stubborn look on your face, that you aren’t going to listen to me.” Aaron stands. “Mind if I hit her up?”
I scowl at him.
“Kidding.” He laughs. “Do you want to grab a beer?”
“I can’t tonight. I have a test in the morning, and I need to pass or Coach is going to be on my ass about my grades again.” Tomorrow is the last day of classes before Thanksgiving break. We get three days off school, but that just means more football. We play Baylor at home on Saturday, and those three days without classes will be spent on the field, preparing for the game.
“All right. Text me if you change your mind or need a study break.”
He leaves, and after a quick shower, I get dressed and do the same. Aaron and I share a dorm room in Webber Hall. Since he’s out for the night, I have the suite to myself. It’s a decent-sized space. We have separate bedrooms and share a bathroom, kitchen, and small living room, where we have a TV and couch. We’re planning on moving out of the dorms next year, but this isn’t a bad setup. And it’s close to the practice facilities.
I sit on the couch, laptop in front of me. I read over my biology notes and then the last three quizzes. I keep studying until my eyes start to glaze over and I’m confident I can at least eke out a passing grade on the test.
I might have partied a little too hard early in the semester. And all last year. And my entire high school career. My priorities have always been football, fun, then grades. But the latter has nearly cost me playing time. If I don’t keep a certain GPA, I’m benched. So, I’ve had to adjust. I think I’ve finally found a balance between studying and everything else, but I won’t be making the dean’s list anytime soon.
I glance to my left, where my cell phone sits on the couch beside me.
Don’t do it.
Even as I think the words, I grab my phone and pull up Stella’s text. As I’m re-reading it for the hundredth time, three dots appear, indicating she’s typing.
My pulse accelerates as I wait. The dots stop and then start again. I didn’t expect her to text again. Stella doesn’t seem like the kind of girl to chase after a guy, and my non-response shut down the friendly back and forth we had going.
I know I shouldn’t want her to keep trying to talk to me, but the way adrenaline continues to rush through me while I grip the phone tightly in my hand, I have absolutely no chill. I’m losing my mind. The dots disappear again and don’t start back up. Maybe they were faulty dots? Is that a thing?
Fuck it, I don’t owe Walters anything. And it’s just a little friendly texting, anyway.
